


Room With a View

by justkisa



Series: Postcards From Abu Dhabi [1]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 08:25:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1737914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justkisa/pseuds/justkisa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Stevan is obnoxious and Matija is kind of cranky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Room With a View

[ ](http://s1203.photobucket.com/user/justkisa/media/sj_view_jpeg_zpsbb300b49.jpg.html)

***

“You better not be taking pictures of me.” Matija’s face down in the middle of Stevan’s bed so the words come out a bit muffled.

Stevan rolls his eyes, even though Matija isn’t looking, and says, “No. Just of the view. Look,” and tosses his phone at Matija. 

It clatters off his head and Stevan winces - that wasn’t what he was aiming for. “ _Ow,_ ” Matija says, rolling over, “Stevan.” He’s rubbing his head and he looks so sulkily aggrieved that Stevan wants to laugh. He decides it’s probably better not to. 

He tips back in his chair and watches Matija squint up at his phone. “Why’re your feet in the picture?” Matija says, dropping Stevan’s phone onto his chest, “No one wants to see your ugly feet.”

Stevan lets his chair rock back onto the floor. It lands with a resounding thud. “What do you know,” he says, “Bet lots of people want to look at my feet.” 

Matija wrinkles his nose. “They do not.” 

“Maybe,” Stevan says, getting up and leaning over to pluck his phone off of Matija’s chest, “You’re right. Maybe I should take pictures of something else. Something everyone will want to see.” He fiddles with his phone and brings up the camera. He holds it up. “Like you in bed. That’ll be pop--” 

Matija sits up and lunges forward. “No, _Stevan_ , c’mon.” He makes a grab for Stevan’s phone. Stevan steps back but not before Matija catches his wrist.

“C’mon, Matija,” he says, trying not to laugh, “You don’t want to disappoint your fans do you? Strike a pose, maybe take off your--” 

He’s only going to say _shirt_ but he never gets a chance because Matija says, “God, just--just _stop_ ,” and pulls hard on his wrist. He ends up sprawled across Matija, his arm caught awkwardly between them. 

“So,” he says, smiling down at Matija, “Is that a no?” Matija makes a low, growling sound which should be ridiculous but is somehow something else entirely, heaves under him, and flips them over. 

Stevan had managed to hold onto his phone through all of this but he loses it in the sudden flip and the resulting tangle of limbs. It slides across the bed, hits the nightstand with a sharp crack, and falls onto the floor. “Aw, _Matija_ , my phone.” He wriggles under Matija, trying to get free so he can look over the side of the bed. Matija, the bastard, is fucking hard to shift. 

“Fuck your phone,” Matija says and there’s something in his tone, something that’s not annoyance but--

Stevan looks up at him. His expression is a bit strained. Stevan stops wriggling and considers their current circumstances. He looks up at Matija and smiles, because sometimes Matija is delightfully easy, then he winds his arms around Matija’s neck, deliberately arches up against him, and says, “If it’s broken, you’re buying me a new one.” 

Matija makes a low, frustrated sound and says, “Fine. Whatever you want, just--”

“Just, what,” Stevan says, rolling his hips up, “hmm, Matija,” and Matija kisses him. The kiss is messy and desperate. Stevan likes to think that that’s because he’s just so irresistible but it’s probably just because Matija wants him to shut up. It’s good for him either way so he kisses him back.


End file.
